


i spy, you spy, we all spy dominate

by acceptnosubstitutes



Series: the ot3 to end all ot3s [3]
Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Innuendo, Multi, unmitigated angst shit, unmitigated cute shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acceptnosubstitutes/pseuds/acceptnosubstitutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of drabbles that didn't warrant posting by their lonesomes.</p><p>(tags added as needed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. nothing short of ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things Dai puts up with for Tom Mason and Anne Glass are nothing short of ridiculous.

Dai remembers how he decided to join up with 2nd Mass. There was a poster haphazardly taped to a telephone poll. He doesn’t remember what it said, exactly, only that it looked like an eight year old had attacked it with a green crayon and some hand-eye coordination issues.

Why he joined up with 2nd Mass is equally clear. People were in danger and they needed protecting. Dai supposes some might call a decision like his heroic, but that’s not why he did it. He simply acts within his limitations. Nothing more.

What is less clear is why he stays. 

Dai didn’t have anyone before the war and that makes him lucky in his view, because having someone (and two someones, at that) apparently means putting up with ridiculous things for them.

Tom Mason has an issue with touching from day one. It’s taps on Dai’s shoulder or his thigh during missions, directions and cues. His hand creeps progressively lower down Dai’s back each time he steps around him or reaches out for balance. Tom reaches out for balance a lot.

It’s a war and naturally Dai gets beat up a lot. Shot at. 

He wouldn’t mind it so much if Anne Glass, 2nd Mass’ appointed medic, didn’t have personal space issues too. She’s a lot subtler than Tom, hides it in “nothing to see here” doctor stuff which wouldn’t be an issue if Anne didn’t have a fascination with straightening his collar and running her fingers down the sleeves of his shirt. 

Dai tries not to wear the denim blue shirt that encourages such attention, but it doesn’t really help.

If it’s not one, it’s the other. Tom’s hand might accidentally brush the nape of Dai’s neck in a momentary passing. They have something for his hair, he knows, because whenever Anne insists on checking him for a concussion she wraps her fingers in Dai’s hair and tugs and pulls at it.

Eventually Dai stops wearing the denim blue shirt at all because of the _attention_ it brings. Oh, Tom and Anne are innocent about it all, of course, but he’ll catch them time and again. Tom with his head tilted, fond smile, but something far less innocent glinting in his eyes. Anne’s fingers stroking tables, chairs, her leg, and all seemingly unconscious movements.

It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, but it’s not like they can stop by the mall on the way to blowing up the next skitter nest. Clothes are limited and eventually Dai gives up avoiding attention.

If it suits Tom to twist his fingers in the rough fabric of Dai’s shirt or Anne to stroke his hair with an expression of extreme concentration, it’s ridiculous but he’ll put up with it.

At least until he can honestly answer himself _why_.


	2. a man of touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is a touch!octopus beginning to bend Dai to his devious will.

Tom Mason is not a man that acts rashly. He considers the impact of each word before he says them, considers if some things should be said at all. He is a man laid back not in the manner of one who does not act at all, but one who has learned to be at ease with the world. And he watches.

Tom would like to think, in the few months he’s known Dai (no last name offered), that he can call the man friend in the same way that Anthony or Click can and have almost from the beginning.

And the word friend comes with a certain territory, a certain understanding of even minute changes in body language.

In the dim light of their quiet watch fire, Tom shifts to one side. It happens to push him closer to Dai. One shift, two shift, and Dai does not move in opposition but my, there’s a certain stillness about the way he holds himself. 

Tom looks up at the stars, smiles. On his next shift the pads of his fingers brush against the back of Dai’s hand. Tom pulls back almost immediately but his proximity detects a faint twitch.

Dai does not much like to be touched without his permission. Tom considers, very carefully.

Ruefully, Tom is also a man of touch. Almost a bad habit, Rebecca often joked. He liked to stroke her hair, idly her delicate wrists, ruffle his sons’ hair, one arm hug Hal because it made Hal scrunch up his nose in that unconscious way he used to do as a child.

Tom lines up his body to Dai’s, very carefully. The side of his hand just brushing, arm parallel, Tom’s elbow cushioned in the grass below, but shoulders touching. All brief points of contact.

Dai is quiet for a while and then sighs. He doesn’t say a word but potential energy pools as if only waiting a moment’s notice to transfer into kinetic.

“It’s just this thing I do,” Tom says after a while, chuckles, “Rebecca, my wife, called it one of my rules.”

It’s like an. Initiation.

“Rules?” 

Tom’s smile goes fond.

“Five,” he says, “five rules. This one, touch.” And Tom leans just a fraction into the warmth of Dai’s body. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

This time though, Tom would call Dai’s sigh long suffering. Reluctant, but giving in.

They stay like that, touching easily. Eventually the tension leaves Dai’s frame and Tom considers it a small victory when another leaning in is returned.

Tom would like to loop his arm around Dai’s neck in a loose hug. But Tom is also a man who knows when not to press his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even remember what the other four rules were, tbth.


	3. touche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Pope thinks Tom Mason is the one in charge. Shows how much he knows.

Pope approaches Anne Glass with a purposeful stride, grin cocky. Her back is to him initially but she turns around when she hears footsteps, expression wary when she sees who it is.

“What do you want Pope?”

Pope’s grin, if that were possible, intensifies.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Anne’s brow knits. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Mason,” he drawls, looking every bit a satisfied cat that caught the canary, “’cause you wouldn’t believe who he’s screwing right now. Clue? Not you.”

Anne tilts her head, studying Pope, lets out a little laugh. She turns back to her work. Just when Pope thinks she’s completely ignoring him, Anne looks over her shoulder. Amusement dances in her eyes.

“So which one is it?”

Pope crosses his arms, studying her in turn. “You don’t seem particularly concerned to hear Mason’s fucking his best friend on the side.”

“I’m not one for hypocrisy,” Anne says, shrugs, like it’s nothing, “but that wasn’t my question.”

Anne sets her charts aside and leans back against the counter. She crosses her arms too but there’s nothing sharp in her posture, nothing defensive. Anne looks Pope up and down. Her usual smile is now more a smirk.

“It’s Tom, isn’t it? Not that I blame you, wanting to see Dai so undone. So unlike the usual, isn’t it?”

Pope snorts, turns his head. But he says nothing.

“Besides,” Anne continues, “didn’t really think you had a secret desire to be dominated by Tom Mason.”

At the thought, Pope turns a little green.

Anne pats his arm with a chuckle, leaning forward.

“Feel free to look,” she whispers in his ear, “but touch and I'll have to kill you.”

The syringe in her hand suddenly looks a lot more deadly, than it did five seconds ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day I'll write the part Pope walks in on, haha.


End file.
